


i was all over him

by dezsemporium



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Banter, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Original Character(s), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), but i don't know if my female inquisitor can be called an oc, fond memories, i don't remember their names shawty i do not even remember my breakfast, made-up orlesian nobles, sfw, the inquisitor is named, yearning?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezsemporium/pseuds/dezsemporium
Summary: for these all-too frequent sleepless nights, the inquisitor's mind drifts to more comforting memories.
Relationships: Cole/Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Cole/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Cole/Inquisitor (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 8





	i was all over him

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song "i was all over her" by salvia palth, which i listened to exclusively as i wrote this entire thing! yes yes I am ill <3

The Inquisitor was always perceptive to the feigned respect and adoration that the Orlesian nobles showered over her. After all, her reputation was comparatively mediocre. She was aware that her status as a Free Marcher was sure to have elicited many a sigh of relief from lords and ladies participating in idle gossip— knowing the nature of nobles, her being anything other than a human would've complicated things further— but that was about all the credit they could give her, save for her successes of keeping the Breach at bay. Besides this, she knew that the rest of their honeyed words and praise were mere formality. After all, this is simply how one plays The Game.

Those facades did not anger or upset her, no. In fact, she recalled a feeling of mirthful amusement while witnessing (and, indeed, participating in) the antics at the Winter Palace. The Inquisitor was surprisingly skilled at adopting conversational tones that felt a touch sardonic— and, ever perceptive to mood changes in the other's voice and wording, reverted back into being completely genuine once there was a threat of disapproval. Every sip of fine Orlesian wine she took was taken with a dash of exaggerated elegance— mocking, almost, but merely charming to anyone who does not look twice. Every smile she gave, not without a hint of mischief— just enough so that most nobles _would_ understand her distaste for the nature of the Game and its participants, but only _subconsciously_.

To be sure, what the Inquisitor found amusing was testing the limits of the Game's etiquette. Nothing Josephine did not pick up on— what with the rather scandalous looks sent towards Yvette, and the one instance she could've sworn that she _winked_ at a young servant boy as she'd thanked him for her drink. But frustratingly, the Inquisitor tended to move about a great deal-- socializing in the same manner towards as many guests as she could— leaving Josephine with no opportunity to even mutter a word of advice to her. By the time she'd caught a glance of Inquisitor Gorra's bold attempt to introduce her... rather _eccentric_ company to a baron and baroness of Antiva, Josephine had already given up.

"--which is _exactly_ the reason I stand by my point, that rare bottle-collecting in the Hinterlands is an often-overlooked form of self-fulfilment." the Inquisitor leaned forward ever-so-slightly, her gaze and (feigned?) enthusiasm holding them captive in a conversation they grew desperate for an exit out of-- something the Inquisitor was mirthfully aware of.

"Is she--?" The Iron Bull muttered to Solas beneath a whisper, and was met with a hum of confirmation from the elf seated beside him. Bull gave a snort of laughter that he hid behind a cough. Solas takes a sip of his drink.

Poor Baron Edwin and his Baroness Marie were seated on the opposite side of the all-too-joyous Inquisitor— and a quiet man beside her that the two nobles did not recall there being an introduction for.

When they asked, out of courtesy, about how they must have missed the young man's introduction into the court, the man in question looked up silently. This went unnoticed, however— as the brilliant flash in the Inquisitor's eyes proved to be far more noticeable, and also made them regret their decision instantly.

"Why, how could I be so _rude!_ My esteemed Baron and my gracious Baroness, may I introduce to you my trusted companion— and _friend—_ Cole." Gorra bowed her head, and with a flourish, gestured to Cole in a manner of presentation.

The companion in question sent a glance towards The Iron Bull and Solas— the former jerking his chin at him with a slight grin, the latter mid-sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Hello." was all he could come up with, absolutely not accustomed to such intricate rules and social etiquette as is customary in the Winter Palace.

The Inquisitor, however, never missing a beat, picked up the reins once more. "Quite amusing you should ask, Baroness Marie, I was the slightest bit offended that such an asset in the Inquisition's forces should be deemed unworthy of a simple introduction— really, I'd placed my standards of common courtesy at a far higher pedestal than what has been presented to me till now," spoke the Inquisitor, examining her fingernails with her brows furrowed ever so slightly before looking up at her audience once more with a bit of a devious smile, "but I suppose I shan't weep over what cannot be helped. Certainly not to you, of course, my dear Baron and Baroness, no— _you_ have been just as pleasant as a gentle breeze out on the Western Approach."

With a small raise of her glass, she took another sip of her wine.

"Why, it..." the Baroness shook her head— seemingly good-naturedly, it was difficult to tell without the visibility of facial expressions— "it has been our deepest pleasure, Inquisitor."

"And we regret for your dissatisfaction of _any_ of the customs displayed, madame." spoke the Baron, as he began to make tell-tale gestures of exiting the conversation. Gorra could swear that the Baroness' shoulders seemed to relax in a sigh of relief.

"I fear, however, that we will have to continue our discussion another time. But we bid you a bountiful night, and to enjoy all that the Winter Palace has to offer." he finished with a bow of the head as he took his coat and stood up, and his wife took his arm as she joined him.

Bidding them farewell with a final saccharine smile and a gentle nod, Gorra leaned back on the chair— looking back at her companions, her smile appeared to have changed in quality completely, now appearing as if she was holding in laughter.

"And when they kick us out? What then?" Solas deadpanned.

Rolling her eyes, the Inquisitor kicked a leg up to rest her ankle at her other knee. "They won't kick us out." she said dismissively, her arm resting on the top rail of the sofa, inadvertently around Cole. "What would they kick us out for? Being a little bit irritating?"

"Well, if they do, it won't be because of any of _us_." said Solas, disapprovingly. Gorra simply took another languid sip.

"He was happy when he left." Cole spoke out, quietly still, and Gorra turned her head to face him.

"Yeah, I'll bet. I mean, I hope he was. Saw that guy eyeing a couple of servant girls earlier." sniffed Gorra.

Cole shook his head. "Pleased, proud— _'Thank the Maker I got us out of that.'_ He feels like a saviour, wonders if she will want him more. He hopes that this makes up for it." he paused for a moment before furrowing his brows and inclining his head ever so slightly. "Makes up for what...?"

Whatever it was, it earned a snort from the Inquisitor. "What, Baron Edwin?"

Cole nods, eliciting a laugh from Gorra.

"Don't know," she feigned ignorance to Cole's question, "but he must be severely lacking in _certain areas_."

At this, Cole turned to look at her. "You're lying." he said matter-of-factly, with no malicious intent present in his voice.

She gave a shrug, clearly amused. "Not entirely. I have ideas, but we don't know if my suspicions are true."

* * *

That night seemed to pass in a blur of white, blue and gold. Laid on her bed, the Inquisitor cared not for details as her mind began to run on fumes. All that she cared to recall was her time spent with Cole.

After that little interaction, she'd gone around the castle with him some more, round those crowded palace halls. The air in the Winter Palace was stuffy with expensive perfume, so strong that Gorra felt a slight burn in her throat from every inhale. The only aspect she'd enjoyed about the interior was the lights, and the decoration. Always a stickler for things of rather garish nature, Orlesian decor seemed to suit her tastes. the Winter Palace's lights were also a comfort to recall— drowned everything in the halls with a warm tinge of gold.

But she never did spend too much time inside. Not since Cole had thought out loud to her— "The moon is yellower tonight. I wonder if that means it's happier?" he'd tilted his head.

"I would like to talk to it."

She remembered all too vividly her heart aching when he said that, and her ending up spending most of their time in the courtyards instead of the ballroom, so that Cole could better view the moon and the stars. She remembered all too vividly the ache of her heart, because the feeling seemed to return to her just as painfully as she laid in bed reminiscing. Evidently, it was not at all uncommon for it to happen— in fact, she couldn't recall a time when it didn't happen whenever she exchanged words with Cole.

And he muttered the nobles' thoughts and worries as he always does, but rarely does he _judge_.

_"She tells lies that hurt people. But she is hurt inside. She wishes she could run away. Wonders if Dominic still thinks of her, if his nugs would remember her if she ever walks into his house again one day."_

_"He curses every second he's around her. Always looking over his shoulder, like he's being watched. He knows she knows. But all he wants is to be with him."_

Throwing a few analytical glances across the halls and the courtyard, Gorra listens to it all— and had she gotten an opportunity to speak to the person in question, she's inadvertently... _kinder_. No hidden malice, or even mischief— since it wouldn't help to irritate someone already suffering from their own troubles, and more importantly, because Cole wouldn't _want_ her to.

* * *

"You know, I think the moon would like to speak to you too." the Inquisitor had said as she leaned against the marble railing, with her chin rested in her hand as she gazed up at the sky, and Cole at her side.

"You do?" Cole had asked. "How do you know?"

"I asked it." she smiled at him, giving a nod, then a slight chuckle afterwards. "I'm just joking. But I still think it would." she paused, stringing her tangled thoughts together in her head before speaking again.

"I think the moon is... a very kind soul." she started, her voice almost a bit hoarse— she hadn't noticed her fatigue at that moment. "And, so are you. So when it hears about how many people you helped, how many you _want_ to— I think the moon would look even yellower that night."

Cole felt a warm sensation in his chest— not exactly foreign to him, but it hadn't been this _present_ before. The same as how he feels when he holds his hand out to a nug and it nuzzles him in return, or— or when he peeks around a corner and sees a mouse find the cheese that he left for it on the ground. He continued to gaze at the moon.

"Because it would be happier... from talking to me?" the idea made him smile. He turned to look at Gorra. "Thank you."

To this day, there still weren't any words that Gorra was able to come up with to describe how she felt in that moment. If she'd had any more to drink, she wagers she might have wept— in which case, she thanked the Maker she didn't. There was a heavy, dull pain in her heart, like a bucket overflowing with entirely too much water— her mind drowned in so many words she wanted to say, but also absolutely nothing at all. So she simply said "you're welcome".

* * *

After the rest of the evening's hectic events, the Inquisitor found herself leaning against a railing once again, the moon farther overhead now than it was earlier. The ache of her limbs and the newfound weight in her eyelids put her thoughts exclusively on going home. The noises of festivities inside of the Winter Palace felt distant, although they were just behind where she stood. The reunion of Celene and Briala that the nobles cheered and sang to that night were dedicated to her, all to her— and as always, the feeling of accomplishment that should be in her heart was completely absent. Not unfamiliar to the Inquisitor, as she recalls the same bitter aftertaste accompanying all her other past victories. Every toast, every cheer for her felt _undeserved—_ as if she should reject it, insist she was doing the least she could do, with only common courtesy urging her to accept such compliments.

But as she was lost in thought, she sensed another's presence join her on the balcony. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Cole halt just by her.

"Cole," her voice came out regretfully enthusiastic. She saw him give a small smile.

"They're all talking about you," he spoke quietly. "Yvette blushed when she did, to Josephine. Some of them talked more about The Iron Bull, or Solas, though— but it always went back to you. They wonder where you are."

Smiling, Gorra gave a sigh. "I'm glad," she said, "I just... wanted to be alone, I think."

At this, Cole tilted his head slightly. "Should I leave?" he asked genuinely.

"Huh? No, no—" she objected with a shake of the head, "No, don't— you're fine."

With a small jerk of her head, she beckoned him to join her at the railing, as they were before. She felt his presence as he did so— noticeably warmer now, she noted. _'More real',_ as Cole describes perfectly himself.

"I like the music they play." he mused, resting both arms on the cool metal of the railing.

Gorra huffed in amusement. "Would you like to dance?" she asked in jest, grinning as she glanced his way.

He didn't seem to catch the humor, his brow furrowing slightly behind the tangled hair that fell past his eyes. "I don't know how to dance," he said, "it's very complicated— and I can't listen to the music very well when I try."

"You tried, though?" asked Gorra, with an honest curiosity.

Cole winced. "Lady Cambienne was _very_ angry when I stepped on her slippers." he said lowly, shaking his head.

Gorra laughed aloud, followed by a comfortable silence between the two as they resumed the stargazing they were doing earlier.

"I'm happy that we helped Celene and Briala." Cole cut through the part-silence as music continued to play behind them.

Not looking away from the sky, Gorra gave a content smile. "...Me too." she replied after a pause. 

As she recalled the memory, she remembers how she'd completely forgotten about her aching limbs and tired eyes— thoughts only attributed to Cole, and savoring every aspect of the moment. The music from the halls never increased in volume to her ears, and for that she was thankful, because Cole's voice was clearer than day— and so soft that it eased the previous emptiness she'd felt. Her memories finally began to stir into each other, all golden and warm with comfort as she started to fall asleep. Gorra forgets about the cold outside just as she'd forgotten about the music of the Winter Palace, and replacing the emptiness is Cole.

Cole, beside her, together with no expectations other than the promise that he would stay there with her. Silent moments with him were intimate enough to put her heart at ease even when recalling from days, weeks, even months later. And as she drifted into a dreamless sleep, the moon glows gently outside, with its light tinted a faint shade of yellow.

**Author's Note:**

> all descriptions of gorra's heart hurting and her emotions in general are based on a true story


End file.
